Too Much For Granted
by Lady Chekov
Summary: A Much-centric story. When Much falls ill, will the others come together to take care of him? Not a terribly complicated plot, but lots of friendship and gang togetherness to come. Thanks for reading!
1. Chapter 1

**Too Much For Granted**

The first chapter is short, but there is more written that is to come.

Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC or any of the awesome characters.

* * *

Much carefully navigated his way down the embankment to the river. The air this morning was sheer and cold against his clothes, and the bank was covered in frosted dew.

"I hate the cold," he muttered, his breath puffing out ahead of him in a little white cloud. But as the one who cooked, it was also Much's responsibility to make sure they had the supplies they needed for the day well within reach. And this winter morning, the camp was running low on water which is what he needed for cooking the breakfast eggs. 

_Lovely_, he thought, as he grabbed a hanging limb to anchor himself on. Downstream, Much knew there was an easier, more level place to draw water, but he was tired and had a bit of a cold to contend with as it was without walking another ten minutes in frigid Sheerwood. He leaned down, dipping his bucket, feeling the icy freshness reflected off the surface of the river. It parted gently to accomodate the rim of his bucket, the current diverging around it.

_Maybe it isn't so bad,_ he thought. _Kinda pretty_--

The branch he was holding gave a little in his grasp and he stumbled to keep his balance.

"Oh, no, you don't!" He laughed in victory and gave the tree a haughty glance. "Think you could dunk me, did you?"

His eyes flashed wider when the branch abruptly snapped free.

He grappled for purchase on the slick bank, but the bucket now full kept him in motion. He hit the water with an awkward splash, and howled like a cat. The water was colder than anything he had ever felt before and it hurt.

His hand released the bucket and it bobbed over and emptied, floating away from him with a laughing bounce. He sputtered, shaking off the shock and waded to the bank. Shuddering, he crawled up the hard packed earth. A breeze prickled across the land and Much felt it all the way to his bones. He hissed and clamped his arms around his torso. Camp lie to the east and he was sure to be frozen solid before he got there.

"Brilliant," he said, out loud.


	2. Chapter 2

**HighPriestessOfTheDreamWorld**- Thank you for your review! I promise, gang awesomeness is coming up very soon!

**LadyArcherFan**- Thank you! I think we need a "Treat Much Right" fan club. There is too much Much injustice in the world! :-)

Here is a very quick second chapter. More is written and will be soon posted. Thank you for reading.

* * *

Robin aimed carefully at the deer in the clearing. His arrow was strung taut against the string and he knew his shot would land true. Venison for all would certainly raise morale. He took a breath and--

There was a thrashing in the brush off to his left and the deer looked up. For a moment, the buck's startled brown eyes connected with Robin's green ones and then creature sprinted away as silently as it came.

"Damn," Robin murmured and turned his armed bow to where the errant noise had come from. "Whose there? Show yourself!"

"Mas-Master?"

Robin did not detect the note of relief in the voice of his friend. His mind was still on the escaped venison and he sighed.

"Much? What is the matter with you? I have been tracking that deer for two hours! Now, what are we going to.--"

His former manservant finally emerged from the brush and Robin nearly started to laugh.

"You are covered in mud," he chastised and Much looked at him dully under a clump of dripping hair. The confusion in those large blue eyes drew the smile off of Robin's face. He noticed that Much was shivering, his lips quivering.

"What happened?" Robin worked quickly, unclasping Much's filfthy soaking cloak. Much watched distractedly as the heavy cloak slid off his shoulders and hit the ground at his feet.

"F-fell in," he managed, between chattering teeth.

Robin took off his green jacket and helped Much into it.

"Y-you don't have to--" Robin cut off Much's protest with a firm glance. He took the former manservant's elbow and started to lead him the direction of camp. He did not express his worry aloud but kept his grip tight and his pace quick. Much paused a moment, looking as though he were wieghing some great and awful secret. With a sigh, he decided to confess.

"Master, I," Much swallowed, his lips pale with cold, "I am afraid I lost the bucket."

Robin fought a grin and failed as he gently pushed his friend back into motion.

"S'alright, Much," he said, "We will steal you a new one, I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you, **LadyArcherfan**, **HighPriestessOfTheDreamWorld**, and **xXxSour-LemonxXx** for your kind reviews!!! It really helps keep me motivated. :-)

Here is the third chapter:

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"Djaq!" Robin called, and the lithe young woman immediately jumped to her feet. "Build up the fire, we have to get Much warm."

Djaq stoked their camp blaze as Robin led his charge to a place before it.

"John, blankets," he said over his shoulder and the large man gathered them from his own pallet.

"What happened?" Will asked.

"He fell into the river," Robin explained. Djaq bent down to look into Much's face, taking in his tired eyes and chattering teeth.

"Take off your wet shirt," she commanded and Much fumblingly did as he was told, careful with his master's damp jacket.

"Help me," Djaq said to Robin, and began to swiftly rub Much's left arm in both her hands. Robin quickly followed suit, briskly rubbing Much's right fore-arm.

"I'm...I'm fine," he protested and weakly tried to pull away from his friends.

"You are not," Djaq told him plainly. "You were exposed to the cold. Now, be still."

She then moved to sit behind him, and wrapped her arms around his chest. He stammered, unsure, but she hushed him.

"Body heat is the easiest way," she said, and in such a tone that remedied any of Much's modest concerns.

He relented and leaned back against her, and sure enough, he began to feel warmth creeping back into his skin. In a few minutes, his shivering lessened, then stopped completely. He turned his head, and let his eyes slip shut, his damp curls making wet patches on Djaq's shirt. _She smells nice_, he thought to himself. He thought about saying it aloud, but he did not feel like moving just now...it might break the spell of pleasant warmth.

Djaq realized he had dozed off when his head grew heavy on her shoulder and his breathing evened out.

"Is he going to be alrght?" Robin asked, quietly voicing his concern and the others who had gathered close to the fire.

"I am sure he will be fine," she said, her little hands clasped around Much's chest as though it were as natural as rain for her to be there. "My only concern is that he has been complaining of being ill these last few days. I do not wish to see his condition worsen."

"I'm not being funny," Alan began and gestured to the empty kitchen area in their tidy camp, "but whose gonna make breakfast, then?"

His grin slowly faltered as he realized Robin was glaring at him, eyes glinting like arrow-heads beneath his long bangs.

"Hey," Alan spread his hands, "It's alright! Who needs breakfast anyway? Stupid meal, I've always thought."

Robin took off his canteen and tossed it so that Alan had to walk forward a few steps to catch it.

"Someone has to get water. I trust that task is not above you?"

Alan scoffed but slung the canteen over his shoulder.

"John? If you don't mind, could you--" Robin began but John cut him off.

"I can throw together something for the morning meal," the larger man said and lumbered into Much's well-tended kitchen.

With one last glance at his friend, Robin snatched up his bow.

"I am going back to hunt some game. The villagers need meat. And so do we." The archer bounded out of the camp entrance.

Much coughed in his sleep and shifted to find a more comfortable position in Djaq's arms. His blond lashes bobbed and opened and he realized where he was and pulled away from the woman, running one hand over his eyes.

"Sorry...Didn't think I would doze off. I hope I did not get your shirt wet. Oh, I did, I can see it," he suddenly blushed, "Not that I should be looking at your shirt, Djaq. I mean, you are one of the lads, of course. But you still have...you know..._Not_ that I am looking because I am_ not_ looking!"

"Much!" Will interjected, exasperation in his tone. "Shut up!"

Djaq rolled her eyes and got to her feet, dusting off her pants.

"You should change out of the rest of your clothing and stay by the fire," she instructed.

Much nodded and hurried to his bunk, still blushing to the tips of his ears. When he had pulled on new trousers and a clean shirt, he carefully set Robin's jacket closer to the flames to dry it out._ No use in ruining the master's clothes,_ he chided himself, scrubbing his sleeve under his nose. He wrapped himself in one of the blankets John has left in a tangled bundle on the camp floor. Sighing, he rubbed his fingers over his eyes than through his hair. At once, he found that his head was bare and he gave a little yelp.

"My cap! Oh, no, I must have lost it at the river!" He got his feet and made for the camp entrance, but Djaq beat him to it and used both hands to firmly stop him.

"Much, you are not leaving this camp. Now get back over there and sit!" She put her hands on her hips and Much looked longingly beyond her before scowling and sulking back to the fire-side.

"It's only an old hat," John said, his brow furrowed with concentration as his big hands did the gentle work of slicing bread.

Much sputtered with outrage.

"An old hat? I will have you know that that "old hat" happens to have been a gift and..and.." Much's frustration gave way to coughing and it took him a moment or two to stifle it.

"Relax, Much, perhaps Alan will spot it on the path," Djaq said, but her dark eyes flashed concern over his head to Little John. "Why don't you lie down for a spell...pass the time till he gets back?"

Much pretended to weigh the suggestion, but he was feeling strangely tired.

"I suppose," he said, with a sigh that he hoped sounded haughty, "to pass the time."

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	4. Chapter 4

A/N: **HighPriestessOfTheDreamWorld:** Thank you! I think Djaq is a great character because she is just so interesting. She is smart, fierce, and at the same time, she loves and feels deeply. She's fun to write, too, partially because I secretly wish I could be more like her. :-P I won't hurt Much too much, I promise. Thank you so much for your review! I really appreciate it.

**xXxSour-LemonxXx: **Thank you for your comments. I am glad that you feel Much is in-character...I can get kind of mushy when I write, so it's really reassuring. :-)

**LadyArcherfan:** Yay! Thank you. More flustered Much to come, I hope. I am glad you are still reading. :-D

Here is the next part. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

_Later:_

Robin sat out in the night for first watch. Snow-flakes, fat and furry, were starting to flutter between the tree branches, giving Sherwood Forest a sheer layer of white. Not for the first or last time, Robin was moved by the quiet and stillness of a winter in the woods. He sighed, a great plume of frozen air in front of him that disappeared like a phantom. Normally, the camp felt safe and hidden from harm but, of late, with the Sheriff seeming to be a few steps ahead of every one of his plans, their little haven felt endangered. Thus, Robin had insisted a nightly watch.

Robin heard a faint sound and listened intently as it became clearer. Coughing. And sure enough, the maker of the sound was stumbling through the brush toward Robin.

Much was wearing his blanket in lieu of a cloak and carrying a bundle in his arms.

"Master!" He called, and the word stuck in his throat. He paused, one hand on his chest as he coughed.

"Much," Robin sighed, "Part of being on watch is not be seen or heard by others."

The former servant coughed harder and Robin frowned, rising to his feet.

"What are you even doing out here? You should be in bed."

Much shook his head, snow adhering to his exposed hair. "Master, I've been in bed all day. You left this behind, I thought you might be cold."

Robin took the bundle Much held out to him and realized it was the jacket he had wrapped his friend in earlier.

He gave a little half-smile and shook his head.

"Besides," Much rasped, "I couldn't sleep any longer and I was sure that my ailment was keeping everyone else awake. Alan told me to shut up but I.." He coughed several times and Robin couldn't help but wince at the sound, "...Just can't seem to stop."

He glanced at the log that Robin had been sitting on, then back up to his friend, blue eyes hopeful. "I was hoping that you might want some company on your watch."

Robin shrugged on his jacket, and grinned at Much's open face.

"I suppose you wouldn't listen if I told you that I didn't."

When Much's face fell, Robin clapped him on the shoulder.

"It is cold out here, my friend, and you are ill. Djaq would beat me over the head if I let you spend half the night out here," Robin's eyes squinted with merriment, "Not to mention the guilt that I will have to endure when you most certainly die from exposure."

"Robin..." Much scrubbed his running nose and dropped his gaze. He wanted to say something about feeling better when Robin was sleeping soundly and safely near by, after five years of war...how the snoring of his sleeping comrade was reassuring as it was in those far off strange places...but Much knew that bringing up the Holy War only ending up with him talking to a man made of stony silence. Instead, he said, " I worry that you are out here by yourself. If you send me back, I will spend the whole night worrying. Please...just for a while?"

Robin regarded his friend and heaved a breath of resignation. "Alright," he said, but held up a hand at Much's look of joy, "_but_ you must be quiet. And if the instant you begin to feel the cold, you must go back inside."

"Of course, master," Much replied and plopped down on the log, "You will not hear me. I will be as quiet as a mouse...as quiet as a chapel...as quiet as a-"

"Much!"

"Sorry."

They sat in silence for only a few minutes before Much found he had to sneeze. Wanting to maintain his solemn vow, he tried to will the sensation away by wriggling his nose from side to side. So focused was he, that he did not notice Robin watching him. He rubbed at it, pinched at it and tried not to think about it, but the itch was growing. Finally, he could hold it no longer and he sneezed heartily, leaving a cloud of white breath in the air in front of him. And much to his distaste, he found that his young master was just about falling off of their log with barely contained laughter.

"_What_ is so funny?" Much demanded, wiping his sleeve across his face.

It took a few moments before Robin could speak.

"You are," he managed.

Much pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

"I really don't understand what about me could be that amusing."

Robin did a quick impression of Much's battle against the sneeze, including crossed eyes and a comically wrinkled nose. Much's mouth twitched up in a grin, but he speedily repressed it.

"Oh, that is very funny," he said haughtily, and lifted his chin, "Very funny. Mocking the ill. Robin Hood's latest calling!"

Robin snorted in response. Much sniffed and struggled to maintain a straight face.

"I am sure that next it will be drowning small animals," Much added and was delighted to see mirth in Robin's eyes, "Or at the very least, kicking little old ladies in the rear!"

They looked at each and that was it. They doubled over, their loud laughter echoing through the winter-soothed woods like a spring rain. Quicky, Much's cheer turned harsh, and his laughing caught in his lungs and he choked. When it became apparent to him that the coughing was going to make him sick, he got up and moved away from his master. Holding onto a tree with one hand, Much bent and was ill. With a quiet moan, he straightened and leaned his forehead against his arms, glad for the tree's unwavering strength. _What an awful thing to happen_, he thought. It had been so long since he and Robin had laughed together like that...So long since he felt any connection with his friend since their return and, of course, he had to ruin it--

He felt a warm hand press his shoulder and he heard Robin's voice, careful and coaxing.

"Come. Let's head back to the camp."

Much nodded and pushed away from the tree, feeling sore and ashamed. He allowed Robin to take his arm and pull him along, just as he had done when they were youths. Robin with some mischief in mind for the estate, and stubborn but loyal Much being dragged along beside him.

Much realized that there was sweat running down the sides of his temples and he used his free hand to keep it from stinging his eyes. If he was sweating, he must be hot, he thought to himself, but at the moment all he could feel was cold. He could not stop his shuddering.

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	5. Chapter 5

**HighPriestessoftheDreamWorld:** Thank you for your review! I really appreciate it. Some of my favorite moments on the series are the small ones...I always wish there were just a few more, especially all those nice Robin and Much moments. Gah! I can't wait till season three!!!

**Tahm the Lame:** Thank you for reading! I love Much so much. And the other out-laws secretly all love him, too. I just know it.

Thanks, **LadyArcherfan**! I have some more stuff in mind that ties into Much's time in the Holy Land in the chapter after this one. It might get a little angsty, but I couldn't help myself. :-P I am glad you are still reading.

**xXxSour-LemonxXx:** Thank you for your kind words :-)

**AngelsShadow816: **Thank you for reviewing! I am always looking for Much fics...I just can't get enough. Which finally inspired me to write one. :-D Much is going to be fine...eventually. I am so happy that you enjoying my writing.

Alright, here is Chapter five. A little short, but more to come soon.

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"Feverish," Djaq diagnosed, pressing her small wrist to Much's brow. "This is what I was afraid of."

Much closed his eyes and rolled his head away from her touch. He coughed into his blanket.

"There are herbs I can give him that will help soothe the irritation in his lungs."

"I didn't think he'd run off," Alan murmured, standing sleepy and confused. "I tol' him to shut up, but I didn't mean leave, for Pete's sake."

"Alan, bring water," Djaq commanded, "and a cloth."

Allan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Without another word, the outlaw did as he was told.

They had laid Much out beside the fire, and the orange light caught in the sheen of moisture on his skin. His coughing echoed around the camp-site and Djaq pulled back the wool blanket and un-buttoned his shirt to lay her head against his chest, listening to his breath.

"Robin," she ordered, "get my bag. John, I will need some stones of small size," she made an approximate circle with her hands, "Find them and put them near the fire to warm."

She took the bowl of water that Alan brought her and sat it down beside her knee. Much shivered.

"I'm cold, master," he said, and he tried to pull his shirt closed. Djaq stilled his hands.

"Much," she said.

"Much," Robin echoed behind her, "Let Djaq help you."

Torn between his own discomfort and his master's orders, Much's lower lip trembled but he lowered his hand. Robin placed Djaq's bag by her side, and then went and snatched the blankets from Much's bunk. He was about to put them around his friend, but Djaq stopped him.

"I need his chest free," she said without apology.

"He said he was cold," Robin challenged and Djaq grabbed one of his hands. She forced him to touch Much's brow and Robin immediately felt the heat beneath. He drew back.

"Do whatever you have to," he said, quietly.

Little John returned with several rocks and he set them close to the blaze. "The snow is starting to stick," he grunted, "but I found these. Will they work, Djaq?"

"Those will be fine." She sighed and looked at the chorus of worried male faces. She gave them a smile, weak but reassuring. "It is no use that all of us stay awake all night. I will tend him and wake Robin next to watch over him. We will take turns."

Reluctantly, the others moved off towards their bunks. Much's coughing grew deeper and he gasped to catch his breath.

"Djaq...I...I can't..." he tried, but Djaq shook her head at him.

"I will help you," she said, "try to relax."

She rummaged through her pack for a container of yellow powder and a clean rag. "This is a herb from my home-land," she explained, as Much watched her un-fold the cloth and spread the bright substance in the center. "It will help free up your breathing."

She folded the cloth over twice and dipped it in the water. She placed it on Much's chest and he shivered in response. Next, Djaq reached for one of the stones by the fire and finding it sufficiently warm, she gently placed it over the tumeric filled cloth.

"It smells," he complained, and turned his face away.

Djaq laughed, "See? You are already feeling better."

He glanced around, blue eyes searching. "Where's...where's Robin?"

"He will sit with you in a little while," Djaq ran her hand over his hair in an effort to comfort him, "Close your eyes, now. Sleep."

Slowly, his eyelids bobbed, then settled shut.

Djaq sat back on her heels and regarded the out-law laying before her. While Much could often be annoying or rude, she now found herself saying a prayer for him in her head. For despite his short-comings, it was clear that this man would give his life for any of the others. And on the daily, he provided for their meals, and cleaned and mended their things. Quick to quip and smile. _A good man_, she thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for your kind reviews! I couldn't wait. Here is part 6!

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Much felt heat all over his body, and beneath his eye-lids, his mind worked to remember where he was. Feeling the sweat rolling down the crevices of his face, he could only imagine that he was in the one place where the heat destroyed the other senses. He was in the Holy Land. And if he was in the Holy Land, then Robin should be near-by. But as much as he strained, Much could not hear the familar sounds of his master's breathing. He opened his eyes, surprised at how the dim flickering light hurt. A face swam above him, dark eyes, dusk- colored skin.

He gave a cry of fear.

"Saracen!" He screamed and he struggled to get up-right, the stone rolling off his chest and hitting the earth beside him with a dull _thump_. Eyes wild, Much swung at Djaq but she saw it coming and evaded his blow.

"Much! Much, it is me!" Djaq said, but knew that the glaze over Much's eyes indicated that it would probably take more than that for him to recognize her.

"Master! Where are you?" Much lunged at Djaq, and fell flat with an ungraceful _ooof!_ "What have you done to me?" He railed at her, and there was a twinge of tearful fear in his voice, "And what have you done with my master?"

"Nothing. Much, please," Djaq reached to help him up and he unexpectedly grabbed her arm and yanked her to the floor. He put his other hand about her throat. Djaq gasped under his strength, which was surprisingly considerable.

"You killed him," he sputtered, and now tears were falling freely. "He was sick with fever, and weak, and you killed him!"

He started coughing then and his grip loosened. Djaq took the opportunity and rolled away from him. She jerked when she felt another hand on her, and looked up to see Robin concernedly bent over her.

"Djaq, are you hurt?"

"No," she said, rubbing her neck. She turned to see Much sitting with his face in his hands, weeping. Robin followed her gaze and his eye-brows knitted together.

"Much would never intentionally--"

"I know," Djaq cut him off. "He is not himself. His fever is higher." She looked up at Robin. "He believes he is still in the Holy Land."

Robin face went carefully neutral and he gave a single nod, but he moved toward his friend with a quickness that Djaq could easily read.

Much sniffled and looked over his fingers. When he saw Robin, his face erupted into a smile of disbelief.

"Master...you're alive!"

"Of course I am, Much," Robin replied, his voice careful and clipped. He knelt and gently pushed Much back towards his pallet by the fire.

"They told me the infection would most certainly kill you," Much continued in awe, patting Robin's arms and shoulders as if reaffirming that his friend was solid and truly there. "Oh, master, I was so afraid that you'd...you'd...." Much's face crumbled now, and he lowered his face in shame.

"Much, stop it," Robin's voice was strained. He did not remember much of his time in the desert, the long fever, the infection. The few lucid moments he recalled found Much sleeping beside his bed, or Much changing his dressings, or Much telling him stories about Locksley. What the physicians had told his former servant during his illness he did not know and did not care to know. For what seemed like the millionth time, he tried to desperately push those memories aside.

"You're safe," Robin said, "I'm safe. We're home."

Before Robin could do anything, Much embraced him and Robin could feel the fever and the tears through his shirt. Robin took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Much's heaving back. He blinked twice, trying to block the flood of war horrors that threatened to spill into his mind.

"I did not want to die all alone," Much said through his quiet sobbing and Robin realized how terrifying it must have been for Much to wait and watch while Robin suffered, only a hair away from death. _I owe you greatly, my friend,_ Robin thought. _I still do._

But he could not say these words aloud, not here. Gently but firmly, he pulled away from Much and pushed his friend down.

"You are not going to die," Robin said, as he picked up the compress from where it had fallen and re-dampened it in the bowl. "But you would do well to allow Djaq to preform her ministrations."

"We are home?" His own disbelief and his trust in Robin battled in his blue eyes. "Then... why is it so hot?"

"It isn't hot, Much. You are feeling hot because you are sick. Djaq was trying to help you and..."

Much's eyes widened suddenly,

"Djaq!"

He caught sight of her sitting several feet away and reached out to her, "Djaq, I wouldn't...I...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Djaq saw the fresh tears forming in her friend's eyes and snorted dramatically.

"Please," she said, "It took all my power not to hurt _you_. You are lucky you managed to escape."

Showing that she had forgiven him, she came forward and accepted his hand briefly in her own.

"It was time that Robin took over, anyway," she said and yawned. "Now, I will sleep."

She released Much's fingers and as she rose, she spoke quietly in Robin's ear. "If his condition worsens, wake me immediately."

Robin nodded once to her and turned back to his friend. Wringing out the wet cloth, he placed it back over Much's chest. As he drew back his hand, Much took his wrist in his fingers.

"Master," he said, "Thank you."

Robin smiled and squeezed Much's fore-arm in response. In his mind's eye, he saw a flash of hot, dry Acre. Much's expression of horror when he found Robin wounded. Finding his friend asleep beside him when he finally awoke from his fever-dreams.

"It's nothing," Robin said. "Don't think about it."

Much released Robin and closed his eyes, feeling safer knowing Robin was there watching over him.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Just a short little chapter... **

Robin did not want to sleep, sitting cross-legged beside his friend. But the heat of the fire, ruddy and brisk against his face and the sound of a low moaning wind rustling against the roof of the camp worked their lulling magic...his head lowered to his chest and--

He jerked awake when a large hand fell over his shoulder. Little John was crouched beside him. He gave Robin an apologetic little smile and gestured toward his leader's empty bunk.

"I'll watch for a bit," he said, and settled down beside Much to end the argument before it started.

Robin didn't want to leave his friend, but John was giving him a firm glance.

"He's been fitful, but he hasn't woken up since..." Robin cleared his throat, and John nodded. Robin wasn't sure how much of the scene between Much and Djaq the others had witnessed, but he had an idea that none of them had been sleeping that soundly since. Robin gave his friend a final glance and then got to his feet.

"Wake me for the next watch," he ordered and crossed the floor to his bunk where he climbed in, quiet as a cat.

Little John sat back on his haunches and regarded the pale boy beside him. Much was still fairly glowing with fever, his skin glistening in the flickering light. Although it was clear he was sleeping, it seemed he could not find stillness or peace there. John Little was suddenly reminded of his young son, with his limp and his mother's easy smile, and he reached out to lay his hand on Much's forehead.

Much trembled, his eyes fluttered opened, searched for focus. John had never known the horrors of the Holy Land, but he did understand desperation. It lived in him, a distant kindling in his heart that he had to watch over in case it one day ignite. He could read that emotion plainly in his friend.

"You are safe," he said, leaning closer. His brown eyes were gentle and home to sympathy and when Much looked at him, he felt some of his fear dissolve in their surety. When they had first met, Much had thought this man no better than a brute. But as the older outlaw tucked the blankets around him closer and smiled, Much saw him more than ever for what he really was.

"Father..." Much murmured aloud,"...You are our father..."

John frowned, unsure. The younger man must be calling for his pa, but John was certain that Much had no family, as he often said during the nostalgic night-time talks the others usually indulged in. The servant occassionally referenced his mother when he got on in his babbling, but he'd never spoken once about his father and John assumed there wasn't one...or at least, one worth speaking of.

"It's just John, lad," he clarified, "Just John Little."

But Much had already gone off again, face turned away from the fire-light, leaving John to simply sit by his side and chew on his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for all the encouragement, everyone! I have finally come up with an ending. I hope it's not too much cheese. :-) Happy reading!**

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The need to cough woke him and Much rolled onto his side and curled in on himself, body shaking at the force.

"Oi," a voice said and fingers grasped his shoulder, "Here, mate, drink. Drink."

A metal cup was pressed into his fingers and although he choked on the first two swallows, he managed to sip some of the cold water. It did ease the ache in his chest and he blinked, seeing his haggard reflection staring back him from the liquid.

"That's better, ain't it?"

Much recognized that smug tone and groaned quietly.

"Thank you, Allan," he rasped.

The lean thief raised his eye-brows and grinned.

"Hey, you know who I am. That's good. Will tol' me you were callin' him some other name. Sir Thomas...somebody. Robin said it was some friend o' yers in the Holy Land that..uh..."

"Died," Much finished and he rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Did I? Call Will Thomas? I don't remember doing that..."

"'Course you wouldn't. You're sick," Allan responded. "But you must gettin' better if you know where you are and who I am. Djaq'll be glad to hear that."

He made to get up and Much scooted up on his elbows, wincing at the sudden motion.

"N-no. Please, don't wake her." He closed his eyes and remembered, in a vision marred by haze and fear, that he had tried to strike her...their Djaq. Ashamed, he murmured, "Just...just let her sleep. Robin, too. They've done enough for me for one night."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright." Allan settled back down, long legs stretched out in front of him. "Whatever you say, mate. Just don't go attackin' anybody."

The instant those words had left his mouth, Allan knew he shouldn't have said them. Much blinked, hurt. Then turned over on his side, facing the crackling fire.

"I didn't mean to," he said, very quietly. He looked into the flickering orange flames and tried not think about the gritty sands, the amber sky, or when a Saracen face hovering in the dark meant his life might be about to end.

"Hey, well, what's done is done, right?"

"I hate sayings," Much mumbled, lacking his usual vehemence.

Allan brightened. "Not all sayin's are bad, mate. How about 'what's lost is found'?" He asked and with a flourish, pulled Much's hat from his shirt pocket. He dangled the beige piece of fabric over Much's shoulder and smiled with the other man snatched it from his hand.

"What...my...where did you...My cap!" Much cried and happily tugged it on over his unruly blond hair.

"Sorry I didn't give it back to you sooner. You were sleepin' when I got back...Ol' John said you'd thrown a fit when you thought you'd lost it.."

"It was a gift," Much repeated, with a touch of his old indignity. _Thrown a fit, indeed. _

"Oh? Who would give you a smelly old hat as a gift?" Allan asked. He would never admit it, but it was good to hear Much talking again and Allan hoped it meant his fever had broken for good.

Much sighed, wondering if he should bother telling Allan the story. Allan could be creul to him and he didn't know if he wanted add fodder to the other man's already brimming cache of embarrassing remarks. He was tired, and his chest hurt...but he also found he wanted to cling to being awake and out of his horrible hot dreams of fighting in the King's Guard. He glanced at Allan's face, searching for sarcasm and finding none, he drew a deep breath and started his tale....

_"Much! Much, where are you?"_

_Much listened as Thorton's foot-steps thudded down the hall-way before peering around the edge of the door. One blond curl flopped into his eye and he blew it out of his vision. It would be hard to evade Thorton all day, especially without Robin around._

_Robin was always supremely clever at finding places to hide, and usually, Much found this troublesome...particularly when he was sent to fetch the young lord and couldn't find him. Or when Robin decided it would be fun to first hide and then jump out at him in such a way that would make Much shriek or drop something._

_But Robin was away with his father, to sit on the council at Nottingham and Sir Robert had ordered Much to stay behind.. Robin being his responsibility, he was hard-pressed to know what to do when his lord was gone_. _Robin could be a menace, it was true. And spoiled, he was certainly that. But he also filled Much's days with things to care about..._

_and, well... it was somewhat boring without Robin around. _

_"There you are!"_

_Much jerked startled. Thorton had back-tracked and was now headed straight for him. Stumbling over his own two feet, Much came spilling from his hiding place and dashed down the corridor. He knew he shouldn't enter the main house at a run, but with Robin (and more importantly, stern Sir Robert) out for the day, he hardly thought he would be punished. He darted into the open sitting room and ducked beneath the wooden table. _

_"What is this?"_

_That voice. Much froze, seeing the mistress of the house perched in a chair across the room, her sewing strewn out on her lap. _

_"Lady Anne!"_

_He was surprised to see her outside of her bed-chamber, to be honest. The lady was so often ill now that he had simply assumed that she would be safely upstairs, sleeping peacefully while he eluded Thorton. Ah! Thorton!_

_The man himself burst into the room, flustered, then he spotted Anne and gave a slight bow._

_"Thorton," she asked. Her gaze flickered to Much, who was looking up at her with one wide blue eye beneath a mess of hair. _

_"I am afraid I am looking for lord Robin's man-servant. He's seemed to have slipped through my fingers...yet again."_

_Her pretty mouth slid up into a slight smile. _

_"I haven't seen him at all today, Thorton. I did, however, hear the main door open and close. Perhaps he is outside?"_

_Much's wide eye grew even wider._

_"Ah." Thorton sighed and stormed away. Once he had gone, Much scuttled out of his hiding place, his face flushed red._

_"My lady," he said, giving her a clumsy little bow, "I am sorry! I didn't see you in here when I...I mean, I never would've...I know I'm not supposed to-"_

_"I am not cross with you," she said and watched with some amusement as he relaxed, lean shoulders sagging with relief. _

_"In fact, when I heard you scrambling about the house, I thought for certain that Robert had returned early and Robin was up to some mischief."_

_Much shifted from foot to foot and looked down at the floor. _

_"Much, is it?"_

_He nodded._

_"Or, Robin's Shadow, as you should be called. I can tell you take your duties very seriously."_

_"Oh, yes, my Lady! My lord Robert told me never to let Robin out of my sight, and I haven't since the minute I first arrived. Well...except now, of course. Because he's away. But you know that...because you are his mother..."_

_She smiled at his rambling and leaned over her work, looking him up and down. Her eyes were green, like Robin's, Much thought._

_"How old are you, Much?" She asked. _

_"My lady, I am sixteen," he answered._

_"Well, you are certainly old enough to no longer be running away from Thorton. What have you done that you so fear the punishment?"_

_"Oh, it's nothing I've done! I promise. I haven't broken anything in weeks, my lady. It's..." He flushed again, and nervously scuffed his toe against the floor. _

_"It's...?"_

_"It's my hair, my lady," Much blurted. "He wants to cut my hair."_

_Lady Anne's eyes shone and she placed one long-fingered hand over her lips to stifle a laugh. She cleared her throat instead._

_"That doesn't seem to be an...unreasonable...request, Much. Your hair is quite long."_

_Long and unruly, tufts of it pointing in every direction. And hanging in his eyes. Even as she spoke, he was using his fingers to push it out of his line of vision._

_"Why do you not wish Thorton to cut it for you?"_

_Much sighed. _

_"A girl," he said._

_"A girl?" Lady Anne thought of her own young son and the sheriff's daughter. One could easily read the love in their eyes. In her heart, she knew that she would not be around long enough to watch them marry and prosper, but she felt strongly that her son would end with no other by his side. Young love was to be taken quite seriously, she believed. After all, hadn't she fallen for Robert at an early age? _

_Giving Much another warm smile, she gestured to the seat beside her. _

_"Tell me," she said, "It's alright."_

_"Well, she's...she's beautiful, my lady! She lives in the village with her mother and father and I met her a week ago when Robin and I went to Market Day. And...she...she told me she liked the way my hair fell on my shoulders." _

_Much sighed again._

_"I suppose that's foolish of me," he admitted, "I should let Thorton cut it. It gets in my way."_

_Lady Anne looked at him directly and he lowered his gaze respectfully. She lifted his chin with a finger, green eyes bright in her pale face. How remarkably her son resembled her...Much had never noticed before. _

_"I do not think that is foolish at all, Much, my Robin's Shadow...but you must know, if this girl truly loves you, it will not matter if you cut your hair. If it is truly love, then hair, wealth, even sickness does not matter. But, fret not, my child, I have an idea."_

"And she made you the cap," Robin's voice, low and full of sleep, finished the tale for Much, who had started coughing again. "Which you've worn ever since."

"Good to hear your voice again, Much." That was Will Scarlett, peering brown eyes over the edge of his bunk. "Good to have you back."

Dawn was just beginning to gray through the slats in the roof, leaving glowing slashes of light across the floor.

Allan offered Much another drink from the cup, which he gratefully accepted.

"Sounds like a fine lady," Little John put in.

"She was," Robin answered and stretched as he rose up from his bunk.

"Did...Did I wake you all?" Much asked. His voice held a note of apology. He struggled to sit up and Allan put a hand on his back to help him.

"I, for one, was not sleeping," Djaq said, sliding out of her bed. There was a murmur of agreement from the others. She padded across the floor and laid her palm against his brow.

"Your fever is broken," she said and gave him a bright smile. "How are you feeling?"

Much paused.

"Hungry," he said. "I'm hungry."

Allan laughed out loud.

"That sounds just about right," he added, giving Much a little pat on the shoulder.

"Let's see what I can do about the morning meal," John said, getting to his feet.

Much bit his lip, blue eyes searching the faces of his friends.

"Thank you..." he said, suddenly. "Everyone."

"We're a gang, mate," Allan offered and shrugged.

"You'd do it for any of us," Djaq replied, as if it explained everything.

And, of course, it did.

"I'll help you, John," Much said, and tried to get to his feet.

"No. Let us take care of you for a while, lad," John answered.

"If we've learned anything from this, it's that we can pass the burden around a bit more," Djaq added.

"Oh?" Much glanced around at his friends, unable to contain the surprise on his face.

"Seems we were taking a little too much for granted, eh?" Allan said and nudged him. The thief chuckled at his own pun.

Much straightened his cap with some pride. As he watched his companions start their chores in the bright morning light, he leaned back and dozed.

When they had first come to Sherwood, newly out-lawed, Much had thought it was a night-mare. But now...

"Much, you alright?"

Much blinked up at Robin's face and gave him a small smile.

"Better," Much said.

END.


End file.
